


icarus again

by turtlenecksandsweaters



Category: D.Gray-man, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, I couldnt help myself, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, am i allowed to ship this crack ship, ed and al being friends with allen, exploration of the afterlife, fluff? thats a new one for me, no beta we die like men, slow to update im sorry, tags to be updated ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtlenecksandsweaters/pseuds/turtlenecksandsweaters
Summary: “I love you because you are not mine, because you are from the other side, from there where you invite me to jump and I cannot make the jump, because in the deepest moment of possession you are not in me, I cannot reach you, I cannot get beyond your body…”— Julio Cortázar, HopscotchThere’s only one impossible goal, but it’s not impossible if he can do it.





	1. day 15

The mirror is pristine in front of him; clear as the mote that had surrounded the church. A reflection of himself stares back at him, not a ghost looming where a shadow should be, his eyes aren’t gold — gray does not plague his skin and neither does a tell-tale scarred forehead. He is as normal looking as he can be, all things considered.

The red roots at the top of his head glare back at him viciously, as if wishing him dead. When he first noticed them, he considered dying the whole mop, it’d help him blend in easier (what’s an Ishvalin, anyway?) but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Maybe the red wouldn’t be so bad — he never saw himself in more than canister reflections and shifting mirrors at the circus, but he assumes it’s the same red as it was in his childhood. The only comforting reminder is that it’s not the bright garish color of his scar, nor is it an unruly orange like Lavi’s.

(He refused to refer to them in the past-tense.)

**Day 15 - November 28th**

At first, he had thought this country (world?) had been the afterlife. He still couldn’t prove himself wrong, but no religious prophecies had deemed true, if that were so. Another theory was that this, simply, was a creation of his own mind — maybe he was in a field somewhere, bleeding out and maring crushed wheat below his body somewhere in europe, and these were his last wishes for another, different (childish) life that stretched beyond the time he had left to live in the real world but that had been thrown out the window fast enough — it was entirely too real. The last thing he remembered before showing up here had been falling through a gate with Kanda, and ending up back in Eddystone, Britain. Either way, it doesn’t help him any more than the empty space at his left side does to get him back home.

(Before even registering the strange world he’d noticed first the lack of weight on his left shoulder and almost toppled over — _not like China, never like China —_ if this was the afterlife, it would make sense that he would be stripped of his Innocence. But it wasn’t, he had to tell himself. He didn’t just leave the war.)

(He still hasn’t remembered about the hole in his heart.)

He had tried the Ark on his third day here, it’s presence ever-prominent in the corner of his mind, and even the song had echoed as it should. But no numbered door appeared before him.

(It failed to worry him as much as it should have at the time, and didn’t truly sink in until day 11.)

From what he had gathered so far, he was in the Southern area of a country called Amestris, and was currently in a city named Dublith. He’d made quick work in a bar within his first week there, and used the money to pay for a small hotel room — the currency was like nothing he had ever seen before, though granted the only traveling he did was for the Order most of his life, and as a child Mana had taken care of finances (he dared not think about his years spent with his Teacher).

Even with the lack of a left arm, many people simply ignored it (and him) and went on their way. The day before the 15th, the innkeeper had asked if he was getting an automail from Rush Valley and if he was on his way there, but he had no idea what she was talking about and requested an explanation. 

He decided he’d go to Rush Valley that night.

He never intended to stay still, it just hadn’t occurred to him he _could_ travel, alone, with the money he’d hackled out of countless people — even a few firstborn children, but that held no merit to him and he had no intention of holding them to it.

Pulling on his tan trench, and struggling with his boots, Allen was out the door and returning the room key to the innkeep. She was nice, and waved him off, sad to see him go. Allen promised to visit, but that, too, he had no true intention of fulfilling. If he were to live in this world for however long — _without Innocence_ — he wasn’t going to leave himself without knowledge or power. No matter how many years he had lived previously with an immobile arm, it still left him at a disadvantage.

(He later decided on his way there, he would give himself more time before committing to a prosthesis. He could still fight, and as far as he knew, Akuma did not exist here.)

He’d forced down thoughts of fighting the war without his Innocence as soon as it surfaced in his mind — that wasn’t a possibility. He didn’t even consider it — even if he had managed to hold off a level three without his Innocence in the East Asia branch.

Allen boards a train not completely unlike the ones from home, though it did seem slightly fancier and maybe a bit more high-tech, that wasn’t something that surprised him. It wasn’t hard to keep his head low and avoid conversation, it wasn’t hard, either, to find an empty booth and for that he is thankful. While his communication and people skills always had excelled beyond those of his friends, that didn’t mean he had any intention of having a nice, long conversation with anyone on his way to Rush Valley.

The train takes a day before arriving at the nearest station, just outside of the valley. It’s _hot_ , almost unbearably so, so Allen shifts his trench to hang from his left shoulder and covering his missing limb, leaving him in a sleeveless black turtleneck and tight pants.

He really hadn’t expected this heat.

Entering the town was easy enough, the dirt path clear once you were past the entrance, and he for once didn’t feel like the strangest looking person there. There were all kinds of people, people with scars, people with bright hair colors — it was easy, comfortable, to blend into the crowds.

Almost everywhere he looked, someone had a metal arm, or just a hand, some people even had metal legs! And they all looked completely mobile — before coming here, he’d only met one person with an automail arm outfitted. Her’s only reached just above her elbow and she’s stayed only a day in the inn, but she allowed him a closer look after seeing his own disability.

Wandering the town was easy — follow the flow of people, walk, stop at a shop, repeat. A few had interested him, but nearly as soon as he’d made a decision of which one to go to for assistance, he realized something _terrible._

He was completely lost.

.

.

.

Gavin just stares at him down the bridge of his nose.

Allen gave up pretty quickly in his pursuit to return to a previously seen shop, and landed himself uncomfortably in an only somewhat cushioned metal chair inside of ‘Gavin’s Automatics’, wishing to become one with the chair beneath him just to escape the scrutinizing stare of the older man.

Slouching, Gavin falls back into his chair across from Allen and sighs with the intensity of ten Head Nurses.

“Buddy, I don’t know _what_ you did to your arm, but I’m not your guy,” Allen shrinks back at those words — he’d been confident enough in Gavin, seeing the intense silver and gold metal plate on his shoulder, but the feeling wasn’t mutual from what he could tell.

“I can call up a few others in the valley though, see if anyone else thinks they're up for the challenge. Gotta warn you though, without a plate already connected to your nerves, it’s gonna take a long time, and it’s gonna be painful.” 

Allen grimaces at the time estimation just as the bell above the shop door is wrung. Both he and Gavin peak out of the back room to a dainty blonde haired woman standing in the lobby. 

(Allen didn’t think she looked like she belonged in this place, but he knows _Miranda_ so there was nothing to say to that.)

Gavin seems to know her, and quickly joins her in the main room, they both talk animatedly and Allen decides that’s probably his queue to leave so he pulls his coat back on, nods and smiles, and heads for the door. 

He’s stopped by a startling “oh!” and turns around quickly.

“Winry here might be up to the task, she’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. C’mere Allen, let ‘er have a look.” That's all it takes for Allen to follow them both and slump back into the chair he was becoming oh so familiar with. Winry smiles, and Allen feels memories and nostalgia flood his system from his stomach to his toes. Gavin pries his coat off in the meantime.

_“Wow,”_ is the first thing that escapes the blond haired, blue eyed girl. “Can I take a closer look?”

Allen doesn’t say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote all of chapter 1 in one day without a beta so im sorry if there are any mistakes :,) anyways, im working really hard on this, its going to be my first real multichapter fic! (love that you can see where i tapered off around midnight i promise it’ll get better im just not good at extended periods of dialogue)
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! <3


	2. veni

Ling only turns away from the argument (personally, _he_ wouldn’t call it that) when a blonde woman enters the mechanic shop, but it’s not her that draws his attention. The boy that walks in behind her, there’s something _off_ about his Ki, with an abundance of something that doesn’t belong. He holds the weight of two people — is the only way he can describe it.

While Ed is occupied with the woman, Ling watches the boy from his seat at the table. His hair is an otherworldly white, mind the dark roots, but he doesn’t look like an Ishvalin so Ling assumes he dyed his hair. He’s also never seen a scar quite like that, such an irritated red but it’s obviously not new; it’s depth and intensity too old to be recently received. 

Moving on, Ling sees in one hand he’s carrying a tan long coat, and where the other should be is emptiness. His left arm ends in a smooth stump on his shoulder, and the edges look tattooed, from where he sits he can’t tell with what, though. The albino turns to Ling in his silent exploration of the shop, ignoring the fuss Ed was going through, and when their eyes meet the Xingnese prince is _captivated_ — the teen’s eyes are so silver he can identify a mute purple hue in them, hiding years of hardship and experience and Ling finds himself interested in this person who hasn’t even taken more than two steps into the building.

He smiles, entirely ignoring the yelling going on to his left, and takes a few more steps in until he’s standing near Ling.

“Does this happen often?” He gestures with a head nod towards the blonde girl and Ed, a whirl of yellow in their miniature chase of cat and mouse.

Ling composes himself and shrugs. “I just met Ed today.”

He doesn’t ask who that is, but Ling doesn’t get the impression that they’ve met before. 

“This is my first time here too. I’m Allen Walker, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he sounds all too proper, like he knows who Ling is but shows no familiarity. When he hangs his coat over his forearm to offer Ling his hand he knows he isn’t familiar with the Xingnese royalty.

“Ling Yao, nice to meet ya!” He practically _grins,_ and accepts Allen’s hand quickly. A shock of something like electricity going through his wrist upon contact with the strange Ki, but he ignores it the best he can. Perhaps Lan Fan and Fu got a better reading on him before he entered — wherever they are — they wouldn’t have allowed him to get near him if they deemed he was dangerous, and Ling had been able to pick his Ki out from a largely crowded street. 

When they separate, Allen’s hand stalls in the air before pulling back to its place at his side. He shoots his head up from Ling when the pretty girl finally calls for his attention, Ed a mess on the floor.

“I have to deal with this one at the moment,” she gestures with a wrench over her shoulder at the puddle that was once human, “so Garfield will have to see what he can do with your arm, see if we can fit you with an automail piece.” 

She smiles, but Allen frowns in contrast. 

“I’m not looking for an automail piece,” he throws away his frown with a laugh, like that wasn’t something weird to say at all, “I really was just curious — if there was something to replace my arm in a place like this I had to see how it was done, learn what I could, I think Gavin may have misinterpreted my words.”

(There’s nothing that could ever replace what wasn’t there in the first place.) 

Ling gets the idea that isn’t the detailed version of his reasoning but doesn’t ask.

His smile is sickeningly sweet, ~~like he hasn’t seen ages of battle and been a pawn of war since before he was a child.~~

Allen rubs the back of his head sheepishly, everyone there gaping at him like he grew a second head. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s ever happened, honestly.

A tumbleweed could roll through the shop in the silence that ensues, but it’s cut garringly when Ed starts talking about Central and getting his arm fixed for the trip. That catches Ling’s attention — however interesting lying boy looked, he still has his objective. Grin wide enough to rival the cheshire cat, Ling turns to Ed.

“I’ll go there with you!”

Allen’s lips quirk, glad the attention was off of him until Winry and the walking suit of armor he hadn’t paid much attention to lay their sights on him. 

He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was no body under the suit — a famished, sick looking soul was attached to it instead, but he did not look cursed to be there, chains did not hold him down to the world forcefully. From his impoverished state, Allen couldn’t tell how old the soul was exactly, but he looked to be about his age, and he was..happy? Allen seamlessly closes his left eye on the off chance it decides to activate due to the pleasant soul.

He starts talking first, a boyish voice echoing out, “Hi, I’m Alphonse! If you don’t mind us asking,” Winry’s right at his side, eyebrows quirked as if she herself was about to interrogate him, “why don’t you..want automail?”

He has no eloquent response to that. 

(Was there even a reason to lie?)

“I’ve had this all my life and I’ve gotten around alright, so there’s not really a reason to get automail now,” Allen lies right through his teeth; an entirely too easy task, “really, I only heard about automail the other day and wanted to see the makings myself.”

It’s not all a lie, but it makes his throat feel tight and he feels like he’s done wrong. 

Winry doesn’t appear to like his response, so when she leaves him and Alphonse, he assumes it’s to go fix ‘Ed’s automail. Allen thinks he sees the possessed armor shrug, but the size of the metal makes it hard to see.

His curiosity is ever peaked — and slightly worried.

“Are you going to central too?” By the way he talks, Allen estimates Alphonse to probably be about 13 or 14, his voice still cracking even in a spiritual form.

“I think I might, if you all don’t mind an extra companion,” smiling, Allen scratches his cheek. 

He couldn’t just outright say he could see misplaced souls, but the urge to _ask_ was growing everytime Alphonse’s voice echoed in his metal. The only thing he had heard about in this place that could possibly go through with such a feat was Alchemy, which didn’t sound right, because Cross had practiced Alchemy and it couldn’t do anything like that as far as he knew.

“I’m sorry, are you—“

Before either of them can say any more, Alphonse is turning around to awkwardly reply to Ed on the blonde boy’s new friend before running out the open garage door. Allen decided he’d ask his question later.

Captivated by the interaction, Allen watches Alphonse leave even after he’s far out of sight.

Brothers, maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive already had to edit chapter 1 to fix a few plot holes — ive got a general idea for how i want this fic to go and what i want from it. this chapter moves a little fast, but i reread this chapter where ed and ling meet at garfield’s and thought that was an appropriate moment for allen to appear. for the most part ill try to follow fma:b canon, but of course a few things will be changed to accommodate allen being there and his relationship with ling :) im excited to continue this story! 
> 
> as alway, kudos and comments are appreciated! <3


	3. all things lie in the same direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s not expecting any more questions when Ling brings it up.

Allen isn’t at the train when they leave.

It’s easy for the group to find an empty booth for the four of them, even with the bulk that is Alphonse. Ling takes the seat next to him, left ankle on his right knee and arms crossed. When the train starts and there's still no sign of lying boy, he assumes he had decided not to come. Alphonse voices his speculation as well.

Conversation continues, Winry wondering not only where Allen was, but Lan Fan and Fu as well — Ling assures her they're nearby.

“Hah?! You’re a man and you’re too scared to travel without followers?” 

Ling has a mix of a grimace and a smile on his face in response, “Well, it’s dangerous to travel alone as a young teen.” 

Alphonse and Winry both look curiously at him, though he can only clearly tell the question from Winry is indeed curiosity — it’s hard to tell when Al is behind a suit of armor. 

“Me? I’m 16 years old.” He smiles, enjoying the shocked looks coming his way. 

“Stand up!” 

When he does, Ed in front of him, he’s almost a head taller than a blonde, but doesn’t see the problem — so what if he was taller than Ed? What, does he have some kind of complex?

“Ugly face!!”

Metal pierces the top of the car, causing Ed to duck under and fall back to the ground out of it’s way. Winry and Al are the most amused at Lan Fan and Fu’s means of transportation. 

A laugh comes from just behind Ed still on the floor, and Allen comes into their train cart, grin on his face. Ling assumes he saw the display and matches his grin with one of his own. Allen looks hassled — hair clipped back with loose pins and partially covering his face, must’ve been the wind..

Winry reacts first.

“Were you on the outside of the train too?!”

Allen’s grin turns nervous, and he puts up his hand in surrender. “Sort of? I managed to jump on as the train was leaving,” laughing to add to the circumstance, Ling thinks Allen looks like he’s been caught red-handed and guilty of something.

.

.

.

He sighs happily, thanking Winry — turns out, it’s pretty hard to clip your hair back properly when you only have one hand, not that it had really been a problem until now, the wind had just been rather annoying when he got on. 

Sitting in the booth behind the group of four, he leans his arms over the divider so his head is propped on his forearm between Ed and Winry. 

“So, Allen, how old are you?” Winry asks first, going back to the earlier conversation. She leans closer to the window, giving Allen space to lean over between her and Ed.

“Same as you three, I’m 16,” he hesitates momentarily, almost to add an estimation — he decides it’s unnecessary to add that. So what if he was a year or so off? It didn’t make a big difference either way.

Ed absolutely  _ sulks,  _ bangs casting a just shy of evil shadow over his eyes. 

Allen purses his lips slightly, looking down at Ed curiously before shrugging — whatever came over the blonde didn’t seem to involve him. 

“Why are you following us to Central  _ as well?”  _ Ed asks this time, not at all shy in the glare he sends directly at Ling. Everyone feels awkward at that, Ed was really the only one  _ mad  _ about the two wannabe stalkers. (Although, Al definitely thinks one is more of a threat than the other.)

Allen has it in him to shrug, smile piercing. “Why not?”

“So you don’t live around here then?” Ling voices it this time — it’s not hard to tell, especially as a traveller himself. Although even he finds it odd Allen appears to carry nothing but the clothes on his back and a few do-dads in his pockets. 

The mostly empty train cart goes silent but for the sound of the wheels on the track. Allen shrugs his shoulders again, scratching his cheek and looking away. His lips are pursed in a silent whistle.

“Great, two homeless stalkers are just  _ following  _ us,” Ed groans, falling forward with his head in his hands. Winry smiles awkwardly, more threatening than comforting when she crosses her arms over her chest. Ling hears her say something about how rude that is, but ignores it to instead watch Allen. He may just be the most peculiar person he’s met so far, from his appearance to the shawl of something threatening hanging over his shoulders.

Allen catches his eyes, and can’t help but hold his breath for a second — Ling reminds him of a friend (so they’re friends now?), one of the last people he remembers seeing. It’s odd, the way Ling crosses his ankles the same way Tyki had in his human form, both their bangs hanging in similar ways. It’s unnerving, so he dashes the memory away and smiles at Ling instead.

He’s not expecting any more questions when Ling brings it up.

“Oh, me? I’m an,” Allen hesitates, eyes still locked on Ling and he knows how bad it looks for him right now. There isn’t any reason to  _ lie  _ about the only thing he lived for, is there? Even without— “I’m an Exorcist.”

In the time it had taken him to answer truthfully, everyone in their small booth had quieted and turned their attention to a smiling Allen. His smile is so learned it doesn’t sneak past anyone. His eyes, too, seem to fleet between shimmering, colorless gray and a captivating shade of purple.

“What do you mean by “exorcist”?” Ed asks this time, arms crossed and looking at Allen like he’d just committed a crime for real this time. Maybe he had.

Scratching his cheek, Allen adjusts his position over the back of Ed and Winry’s seat. 

“Well, I exorcise demons, but where I come from we call them Akuma, and with so little of us active we get to travel a lot,” Allen smiles, like you  _ didn’t  _ need to be a fully certified lunatic to believe that explanation. 

(Much less to come up with it, but Ling doesn’t feel lied to this time, not entirely.)

(Ed looks kind of constipated.)

“Is that what you’re doing now?”

Allen stiffens, slipping a bit down his side of the train seats. “Not exactly..” He sounds absolutely  _ pathetic  _ and Ling almost feels bad for asking. 

With barely half of his face visible, Ling can tell Allen’s uncomfortable with the question so he shrugs it off and grins at Ed and Winry. He’d get his answers later, all things lie in the same direction, and everything pointed him to Amestris; perhaps as strange as he is, Allen may help in his search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me a while bc i lost some inspiration, but i decided to rewatch fma:b and it inspired me! this chapter seems rushed mainly because i really, really just want to get to the cabin in the woods/in the belly chapters right now.
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! <3

**Author's Note:**

> i read a fic a while ago and ive failed to find it again, but it was a dgm/fma crossover and seeing allen and ling’s interactions made me go “hmm.. yes” and allen is the only one of my muses i can always 100% write confidently so this became of that simple thought :)
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! <3


End file.
